


This Beating Heart

by ResidentHothead



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon and Feelings, Daryl is severly self conscious towards the woodbury cunts, Established Relationship, Feelings are Evil, Fluff and Angst, Governor is Dead AU, Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Accidental Carl Abuse, NO Richonne, Never Had to Leave the Prison, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Rick is Trying, Rickyl, Self-Harm, The Prison, The Woodbury cunts don't like him much, This Shit Gets Dark, lots of fluff, maybe smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResidentHothead/pseuds/ResidentHothead
Summary: Daryl comes to realize that relationships require a lot more effort than being mushy and caring about one another. It means deep conversations about feelings, expressing oneself, opening up. And those aren't things Daryl is exactly ready to do, nor really open to trying. Rick attempts to break down that wall, but every time he feels like he's finally getting through to his boyfriend, he shuts him out again. It's all so frustrating. Is Daryl even worth it?





	1. Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> Because you know what? I need some zombie action in a Rickyl story.

Fuck, had it already been a year? It was a great year, here at the prison. Though Daryl had been avoiding literally everyone at all costs, he still made time between hunting and hiding to be with Rick. His boyfriend. It felt so fucking fruity putting it like that, but it made his heart flutter all the same. He’d fallen for his smile at first, the innocence in the man’s eyes came next. Even though it faded through time, those blues sparkled like Daryl had never thought possible. Every goddamn mushy thought Daryl ever had about Rick made him outwardly cringe at himself, and Merle’s mocking voice would always replace it and laugh at him with every homophobic name in the book. But Daryl didn’t mind. He knew if Merle was still here, he’d accept Daryl’s choices. Only because it wasn’t like Daryl was going to bend over in front of Merle and let Rick fuck him, but also because it was the end of the world and it’s not like Merle could really avoid Daryl. If only he’d gotten to tell him... But a big part of him screamed that Merle already knew. Which lead to the _Darylina_ jokes. Fuck, he hated and missed those at the same time.   
  
Too bad he fucked up the relationship already. They were really getting into their _alone time_ when Rick had pulled off his belt too fast. It was a trigger for Daryl that he believed was behind him. Obviously not, because he bolted from Rick’s cell without a word and took off to the roof to have a mental fucking breakdown. Tears, hyperventalating, violent trembling, the whole enchalada. And now, ashamed of his reaction, Daryl was avoiding Rick at all costs. All day, turning when he saw Rick in a room and retreating the other way, asking around where Rick was so he could intentionally avoid the space the older man was occupying, and even now. His eyes had met Rick’s from across the corridor. They both knew Daryl couldn’t pretend he didn’t see him. As Rick began approaching fast, Daryl turned around and _sprinted_. Woosh. Gone. Down Cell Block A and through the cafeteria, vaulting over tables and startling all the Woodbury residents. Fuck ‘em, he had a fucking dilemma right now. Not that he would care at any other point. They all still talked shit about Merle from time to time, he really fucking hated a lot of these people.  
  
He could hear Rick’s footsteps echoing behind him in the concrete building, and Glenn and Carol calling after him after he shoved passed poor Glenn and made him spill a whole pot of water down his front. But he wasn’t ready to confront Rick, to confront his past. That was something he was supposed to do with Merle. But he’d gone and gotten his stupid ass killed on a fucking suicide mission. So Daryl was left to deal with his demons, _alone, again._ He eventually knew he’d need to ditch Rick somewhere, so when he was a good distance away, he toed off his boots and scooped them up, socked feet barely making a sound now. The boiler room was a good place to hide, and it was all the way across the prison, away from everyone. He was thankful that most people stayed away from this area of the prison, preferred the more homey areas rather than the damp ass boiler room.   
  
He really hated how they all looked at him, only really acknowledging him after he’s returned from a hunt or a run. He didn’t even know why he was on that goddamned counsel since he fucking hated everyone here. Ok, well he _did_ know. Rick fucking Grimes batted those stupid fucking eyelashes of his and suddenly Daryl was doing literally everything the man desired. And it was pretty pathetic, how he latched onto Rick. They were boyfriends, but Daryl still felt bad for always trailing the man around like a lost puppy, for getting jealous whenever Rick would consult anyone other than him on an important or even a trivial matter. He felt like he was going to be tossed out on his ass any day now, and it was fucking frightening. But it’s what always happened. And even though he clung to Rick, even after a year, a large part of himself was still closed off from him. Their talks were always one sided. Rick would spill his heart out to Daryl, and Daryl would listen. But it was like pulling teeth to get Daryl to talk about feelings or what’s on his mind. And he felt bad when that caused Rick frustration, even going as far to mutter that he now knows how Lori felt, since Rick didn’t exactly talk to her much either.   
  
So Daryl made shit up to talk about. It was easier than actually going on that emotional rollercoaster and dragging Rick along for a crazy fucking ride he didn’t sign up for. He didn’t want Rick to see how broke, tainted, unfixable and unloveable he truly was. It was at least a good six months before Rick could finally persuade Daryl into having sex, and they had to stop in the middle because Daryl began to freak the fuck out. And of course, Daryl blew it off like it was nothing and just avoided Rick until he let it go. It got better after that, and there hadn’t been any incidents until last night. Well, besides being walked in on by Glenn, who fucking _laughed_. That guy was always itching for a broken neck, Daryl swore. But yeah, no incidents until last night. And now Daryl was pushing Rick away again, building that wall back up and shutting him out. It was a defense mechanism he’d built up when he was very young. Because feelings made you vulerable. _And Daryl’s feelings didn’t matter_.   
  
He was so close to the boiler room now, and he thought that damn, Rick must be getting old now because he didn’t even hear his loud ass footsteps behind him anymore. He had probably stopped either for a breather, or given up altogether. He risked a look behind him even though he knew that Rick wouldn’t be there. And he wasn’t. He pushed the pang of guilt to the back of his mind now and threw open the door to the boiler room, closing it quickly but quietly. Once he did, he let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in.  
  
"You know, after a year, I think I’ve come to predict your actions quite well."

 


	2. Temporary Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick outwitted his boyfriend. Conversation and fluff ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gross, fluff.

_"You know, after a year, I think I’ve come to predict your actions quite well."  
  
_ Daryl spun around quickly to see Rick, nonchallantly chilling uptop the table in the boiler room. _Shit_. Daryl rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding Rick's gaze. Honestly, he could try and run again, but by the time he'd get the door open again, Rick would already be on him, holding him there. And that'd only escalate into a fist fight Daryl was not itching to have at the moment. Not with Rick.  
"Uh, guess ya do." Daryl muttered after a long period of silence. God, he wasn’t ready for this conversation. He wished Rick would just leave it be. But the fucking man just needed to _fix_ everything. And unfortunately, Daryl didn’t _want_ to be fixed. He just wanted to ignore all of his problems, push them to the back of his mind to never be addressed again.  
  
"Daryl, sweetheart, what’s going on with you?" _Shit_. That sweetheart shit got him every fucking time. Is it bad he’d rather be taking on a small herd of walkers right now, rather than being trapped in a room with his boyfriend talking about feelings? Because if so, whoops. Shit happens.   
"’s nothin’." Daryl brushed it off, hiding his face behind his shaggy, dirty hair. He really wasn’t comfortable having this conversation. Not even to himself. It’s not like he didn’t _trust_ Rick, because he did. Wholeheartedly. He just-- wasn’t _ready_. And it’s been a good 35 years now, at least, that’s what Daryl thinks he’s at, but he just wasn’t ready.  
  
"Daryl, you need to talk to me. I can’t make it better if I don’t know how to help."  
"’s jus.." He hesitated, looking into Rick’s eyes. They were so concerned, so sincere, Daryl had to break the eyecontact to stop the overwhelming amounts of guilt from washing over him. "Scared me." He finally mumbled, and though it was barely audible, Rick still heard it. Rick got up from the table and slowly approached his hunter, wrapping him in a hug, Daryl’s head on his shoulder.   
"How’d I scare you, hon?" He asked softly, cradling Daryl the best he could. And Daryl practically melted into the embrace. Rick’s arms felt like home. And they were. It felt as natural as when he was out in the woods. He closed his eyes and breathed in Rick’s scent, which caused the older man to chuckle, knowing Daryl was being weird again and breathing him in. But he never said anything about it, knowing that was just Daryl.  
"Took ya belt off too fast.." He muffled into Rick’s shirt, and suddenly Rick’s arms wrapped around his body tighter. He knew what that meant. Pity. He hated it, he tried to pull away, anger growing in his chest quickly, but Rick only pulled him back.  
  
"Sh sh shhh. Pup I’m sorry, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to startle you. Lay your head against me, it’s fine." Rick soothed, rubbing Daryl’s back gently, and Daryl melted back into the embrace, anger fleeting as quickly as it arrived. "Just _talk_ to me, next time. You don’t gotta run away from me, honey." The soothing words were music to Daryl’s ears. He felt as if all his troubles were gone at every honey and sweetheart and pup, so relaxed as if he could just fall asleep right here on Rick’s shoulder and everything would be ok. He finally wrapped his arms around Rick in return and nodded against the other man. Not agreeing that he’d talk to Rick, but more acknowledging what Rick had said. He should probably clarify that, but he really didn’t want to. A hand carressed his head and fingers ran through his unruly locks that probably haven’t been washed in a month now. And the only reason they’d been washed in the first place is because Rick had pulled him into his lap and started washing his hair one day, soothing him through the panicked flailing and shaking. Showers really weren’t his favorite thing, and neither was being clean. But the reward sex for ‘being a good boy’ was amazing and completely worth the struggle.   
  
Daryl broke the embrace when he was ready, because Rick always knew not to be the first to let go. The face Daryl had made that first time he let go when Daryl wasn’t ready was heart shattering, and he held the man for literally three hours apologizing. So that was fun. And annoying. And awkward. Daryl took a deep breath, now finally relaxed.   
"It’s just about lunch, and I got you a jar of pickles~" Rick sang with a grin. His grin was returned, and they left the boiler room, hand in hand.

　


	3. Another Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a flashback of his haunting past, Daryl accidentally swings at one of his fellow survivors.

_"You think you can hide from me?! You’re sorely mistaken, boy!"_  
  
_But he_ was _hiding. Jesus Christ his heart was pounding out of his chest, his breathing so erratic he thought he’d just pass out right here and now._  
  
_The power went out. And somehow, that was 7 year old Daryl’s fault. Daryl didn’t even question how it could possibly be his doing, he had just learned that everything that inconvienced his father was his fault and didn’t think too deeply into the matter. Escaping and hiding for when he somehow did fuck up was a higher priority on his list._  
  
_His ears were throbbing from his blood pumping so hard, he couldn’t hear that Pa was right behind him. Only that last second when he heard a twig snapping under Pa’s feet he could hear. And when his large, angry hand grabbed Daryl’s arm, in a last attempt to escape, Daryl threw a punch._  
  
"Ow!" Carl cried out, on the ground now, nursing a bleeding nose. Daryl’s head was fuzzy, but he was pretty sure he just punched Carl in the fucking face.  
"Huh??"  
"What the _fuck_ Daryl!" Carl shouted, glaring up at the man. Yep, definitely just punched Carl. Daryl’s eyes widened, seeing the damage he’d done. He hadn’t meant to, he was just... he didn’t know what happened. He was in the woods behind his shit shack of a house in the mountains of Georgia, but then suddenly he was here, and Carl was on the ground, and his knuckles were throbbing a dull pain. Which meant he’d hit Carl pretty damn hard.  
"Didn’t mean’a--"  
"You’re such an _asshole_!" Carl hissed out, jumping up and taking off back inside the prison. That wasn’t good. Not one bit. He watched Carl’s figure disappear through the side door, and he knew that at that moment, he’d fucked up royally. So he headed up to one of the gaurd towers to hide, feeling angry with himself.  
  
He hadn’t _meant_ to punch _Carl_. He _meant_ to punch _Pa_. But clearly that didn’t go as planned, considering Pa was fucking dead and Carl was now pissed the fuck off. Why did his past have to dictate his fucking life? He’d just gotten out of shit with Rick and the belt incident last week, now he’s _punching his children?_ What the fuck kind of monster is he? What’s next, tossing Judith over the fence? This shit wasn’t fucking ok, and he knew it. But he knew Carl wasn’t going to be in the mood to hear his apology any time soon.  
  
And he wasn’t exactly ready for the angry Rick towering above him. He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard the man coming. And boy, he was _pissed_. Daryl cowered away on instinct, curling into himself.  
"Didn’ mean’a hit’em." He mumbled, trying to make himself small. "’m sorry." He felt so helpless, trapped in his own personal hell he couldn't share with anyone. Rick insisted he could help, but Daryl just wasn't willing to drag him into it. Rick was in over his head, and he didn't even know. Hell, Rick didn't _want_ to know. Daryl knew the man in front of him was choosing to remain ignorant. And it was because he cared. But a lot of people get so caught up in how shitty things are now, that they don't realize that before was nearly just as shitty for few people like Carol and himself.  
  
"This _cannot_ go on. Daryl, I feel like I’m watching you go into a downward spiral. All your progress has been amazing, but I feel like you're taking steps in the opposite direction now. You used to be comfortable around us, what _happened_?" Daryl only grunted in response, turning away.  
"Kid jus’ caught me off gaurd. Can’ sneak up on me."  
"We’re not supposed to be able to sneak up on ya, Darlin’." And to that, Daryl scoffed. He should feel happy that Rick thought that much of him, but right now it was just irritating.  
"Need’a go hunt." Getting up, Daryl headed for the door in the floor. Rick tried to stop him, but his hold was only shrugged off and Daryl descended on down the ladder. His hunt immediately began as he yanked those gates open himself and sprinted off into the woods.  
  
He needed to relax. Be by himself. Well, he thought he did. He could think more clearly without Rick’s pressuring presence. And man, he needed to find something to bring back to Carl as an apology. Stuff wasn’t supposed to be an apology, but Daryl wasn’t good with words. The hike through the familiar brush was soothing, and killing the occasional walker was stress relieving.  
  
How was he supposed to cope with this.. people shit? At first, it was just about providing, surviving. Then Merle went and died and Daryl was left with people who claimed to care for him, people he cared for so much it frightened him. Now with some sort of civilized life, it was about human connection and interaction. Things Daryl avoided like the fucking plague back in the real world. He usually hid behind Merle, and was just his backup when it inevitably went wrong. Because Merle couldn’t fucking ever let up.  
  
Daryl caught sight of some deer tracks and decided that maybe a buck would be good. He was sick of canned food, he needed some good ol’ venison. It didn’t take long to track the fuckin’ thing. But, he did manage to fucking slip on some mud and end up in the goddamn creek. So covered in mud and deerless, Daryl trudged back to the prison, irritated. And the giggles from Michonne and Maggie didn’t fucking _help_. He just snarled at them and at anyone who dared look in his direction and stormed off inside.  
  
Passing Carl who scowled at him, Daryl ducked his head and disappeared down one of the corridors in the prison, maybe hoping he could just disappear for good. But the footsteps he heard from behind told him that he wasn’t going to get the chance.


	4. Cleaning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gives the very skittish Daryl a bath against his protests.

"You _said_ you were going’a talk to me, Daryl." Rick leaned against the wall, looking defeated.  
"’m tryin’." Daryl muttered, stopping in his tracks so he could speak with Rick, though he couldn’t bring himself to face the man. Not yet.  
"I know, I know. And I think you need a bath now, you’re _filthy_."  
"..." Daryl took off in a sprint down the corridor, and Rick was right behind him. Fucker must’a known he’d run.   
"Daryl it’s not _so bad_!" Rick tried to persuade, though the grin in his voice was evident.  
"Ain’t dirty!"  
"There is no way you actually think I’ll fall for that!" Rick snickered, picking up the pace. Daryl attempted a sharp corner and ended up sliding right into the wall, falling over from the harsh impact. Gasping, Rick dropped to his knees beside his archer and looked him over. "You ok, hon?"  
"Tch. ‘m fine. Had worse than a wall." Daryl scoffed, getting up. Now he decided to allow himself to be pulled by Rick into the shower room. He tipped off Tyrese and Carol, letting them know that the showers were off limits for at _least_ two hours.   
  
Pumping some warm water into a bucket and getting a fresh bar of soap out the box, Rick got on his knees and readied himself for Daryl. He was all ready now. He had his washcloth and his sponge and the shampoo was right by his feet. And of course, some fruity smelling conditioner he would attempt to use so Daryl would smell _good_ for once. The man stunk up a fucking room, but Rick never minded.   
"C’mon now. You know I’ll be gentle." Rick coaxed in a soothing voice over to Daryl, who had stuffed himself in the furthest corner of the room, trying to blend in with the dirty wall. But it wasn’t working. "Come get cleaned up, sweetheart~"  
  
A half hour passed, and Daryl had inched closer and closer to Rick until he was able to pull the skittish hunter down and began undressing him, slowly and gently. He shushed and whispered that it’ll be alright every few seconds, feeling Daryl’s body tense in panic. But once Daryl was completely naked, filthy clothes discarded off to the side and bucket refilled with warmer water, Rick took the cloth and gently began to wash Daryl’s body off.   
  
Eyes were glued to Rick’s hand as Daryl watched his every movement. He trusted Rick, he did. But the paranoia never faded. And he attempted to run when Rick tried to scrub at his body because of some of the dirt staining his skin. But Rick realized his error and switched out the cloth for the sponge. It was smoother, using the sponge over the rough fabric of the cloth, and Daryl relaxed again.   
"See? Ain’t so bad." Rick grinned softly at Daryl, happy with his progress.  
"’s fuckin’ sucks." Daryl grumbled, looking down at his body. He was toned, lean. He huffed, not liking all the scarring and damage that was being uncovered. The dirt was like a shield, and now he was becoming vulnerable. Rick knew only a very small, vague tidbit of Daryl’s past, and this was just blaringly obvious that he was the poster boy for child abuse. And he hated it. His past defined him. And he couldn’t stop it.  
"Ya doin’ so good, Pup. I just gotta wash your hair and we’ll be done." At these words, Daryl visibly relaxed. He liked having his hair washed. Just fingers massaging his scalp was his definition of heaven. Double heaven if it was Rick doing it. He didn’t enjoy the water being squeazed out on his head though, that was annoying.  
"Can I give you a trim?" Rick asked absentmindedly, lathering Daryl’s hair up with shampoo.  
"Wanna know where those scissors ‘r gonna end up if y’all even _think_ about bringin’ ‘em near me?"  
"I’ll take that as a solid maybe." Rick laid Daryl back so he could rinse his hair in the bucket of water. Daryl fucking hated this part, and always squirmed, but he got through it quite well.   
  
The conditioner ended up being used, and Daryl smacked Rick upside the head once he realized how fucking fruity his hair smelled. But Rick just laughed and sniffed Daryl’s fruity head, running his fingers through Daryl’s freshly cleaned hair. He forgot how beautiful the man underneath all the dirt is, how sweet he really looked. Manly and feminine at the same time, that was Daryl Dixon. He was tough but adorable. Rick then helped Daryl get changed into the pajamas Carol had left outside the door and smiled at Daryl. He looked so _normal_. Not that his abnormal dirtiness was _bad_. It was just good to see Daryl looking like an actual human being instead of a clump of walking dirt. Bare feet padded out alongside Rick’s boots and Daryl made his way to the cafeteria for some food, holding Rick’s hand. He shyed away when the woodbury residents would pass them, but Rick only gave Daryl’s hand a reassuring squeeze and sat with him and Judith at the long table they usually sat at. And when Daryl started feeding Judith her peas without being asked, Rick could only fall in love all over again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I do want to explain that I have severe ADHD though, so anyone actually following along with my current stories: they all will be continued. I don't plan on discontinuing any of them. I just get into the mood for certain things and drift out of the mood for others. I'd rather just post what I'm in the mood to post and give you guys some sort of content instead of posting short, half assed chapters because I pressure myself into doing it and get convinced that literally everyone will hate me if I don't post something that day. I'm a mess! But it's alright, this is my current solution. I hope that's alright with you guys!


End file.
